Adhere's the Problem
by Alarun
Summary: Severus Snape, third year potions prodigy, has just invented a potion of his very own. Sirius Black intervenes. Mayhem ensues.
1. Default Chapter

Adhere's The Problem An Original Harry Potter Misadventure Taking Place During The Unstable Era Of The 1970s, Scotland.  

By Alarun

Part I, in which our main character inadvertently overdoses on an experimental potion and unfortunate happenenses ensue.  Yes, I know _happenenses_ isn't a word.  I invented it.  

Warning:  May have come into contact with glue.

Disclaimer:  Me no owny!

Note:  This isn't a part of my other universe, contained within _The Fifth Marauder_.  Snape is most definitely a Slytherin in this, and Sirius Black most definitely hates his guts.

*          *            *

Severus Snape attempted in vain to extract his spoon from the small cauldron of boiling goo.  Goo wasn't exactly its scientific name, but it didn't have one yet.  Severus Snape had just invented a potion.

The third year thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip, releasing the wooden spoon.  It stood straight up.  Maybe if he put in some snail-slime extract as a substitute, it would soften up …

…but then again, how was he going to stir the snail-slime in?

Odd, that the bubbles could manage to make their way through the dense white mass of  …goo...whereas something that consisted of solid matter---such as the spoon---couldn't be moved with all of his strength.  Odder.  

Odder, indeed.

Sev pulled with one last attempt at removing the spoon from the boiling brew.  He seemed to have beaten the suction as it made a gross squelching noise and flew upwards at an alarming speed.  The spoon flew high enough for it to touch the potions classroom's vaulted ceiling.  And it didn't come back down.  

He looked up, prepared to duck out of the way in case it really was coming back.  It was hanging vertically from the ceiling, the part of the spoon that was covered in thick white potion stuck to a beam.  He hummed.

Perhaps a redo was in order.

*          *            *

Several days later, Severus Snape (with a new spoon filched from the kitchen) stood back and grinned triumphantly at his latest attempt at adding snail slime.  He smirked, putting his wand back into his school robe pocket and stirring the liquefied white potion.

Carefully avoiding a glance toward the ceiling (where the original spoon remained vertically plastered to a cherry-colored beam), Severus moved about the laboratory exchanging random ingredients.  When he returned to his table containing the boiling concoction, he carefully set the corked jars and bottles aside and began mincing a handful of mint.

He sliced the side of his finger open while jumping in surprise as an explosion racked the classroom.  Sirius Black stood in the doorway with his light brown wand held up in the standard dueling position, a pure murderous look glazing his eyes.  His hair was disheveled and striped green and silver, thanks to a potion Severus had found in his Christmas present from his parents, a large book called _Best Potions for Practical Jokes_, brewed, and secretly fed the Gryffindor.

"I'm going to kill you!" Sirius Black yelled angrily as Severus moved protectively away from his progressing potion, knowing that it would be destroyed if the Gryffindor threw a curse at it.   He was too slow reaching for his wand, however, when Black threw a random curse in his direction and he was forced to duck, watching it sail over his head.

"Really, Black, I'd thought you had more sense than to throw random curses in a potions lab!"  Severus jumped to his feet, avoiding another burst of magic, while throwing one of his own.

It hit the Gryffindor smack in the chest, knocking him back against the wall; his wand arm flew to the side, his own curse off course.  The spell flew toward the Slytherin's cauldron, knocking it off of the table. 

Severus saw it all in slow motion, while attempting to scout a safe area to protect him from both the flying experimental potion and the angry Gryffindor.  He was unable to find a safe place, however, as the cauldron hit the rafter containing the spoon and exploded into a raining shower of white potion.  Neither of them could avoid it.

He ran toward Black, snarling, intent on strangling the life out of him with his bare hands.  

Headmaster Dumbledore stepped into the laboratory to see two boys grappling, both of them covered in goo.

Albus sighed as he looked down at them, Severus Snape's thin hands wrapped around Sirius Black's neck, Sirius Black attempting to kick the Slytherin's side.  

The Headmaster reached down to the boys, grabbing the backs of their robes and trying to pull them away from each other.  The problem was that they wouldn't come apart.

Sirius Black's leg was attached to the side of Severus Snape's waist, just below his ribs, and Severus Snape's hands couldn't release the Gryffindor's neck.

_Oh dear_.

And Albus couldn't remove his hands from the students' robe collars.

It seemed they were stuck together.

To Be Continued, Methinks…

What'd'ya think?


	2. Part Two, In Which Our Main Characters A...

Adhere's the Problem 

By Alarun

Part Two, In Which Our Main Characters And Their Houses Throw Temper Tantrums And The Headmaster Gets A Headache.

"Oh, bloody freaking hell!"  

"Shut up."

"You shut up!"

"I said it _first_!"

"Headmaster!"

"Actually, Mr. Black, he _did_ say it first…Turn left here."  The three were walking (or hopping, in the case of Sirius Black, because one of his legs was glued quite securely to the side of Severus Snape) gracelessly down the elaborately decorated hallways of Hogwarts.  

"It's all your fault, you know.  If you didn't come barreling into the potions lab throwing curses --!"

_"My fault!?_  Who dyed _who's_ hair green and silver, here!?" 

"I don't know, who?"

Seeing as it was close to dinner, Headmaster Dumbledore thought it would behoove them to retrieve Madam Pomfrey at the Great Hall before proceeding to the Hospital Wing.

"You did it, and don't even try to play innocent!  Headmaster!"

"I think the fumes from this adhesive potion are giving me a headache…" Dumbledore would have rubbed the bridge of his nose, if he could.

"See, Snape!  You're killing the Headmaster!  Professor McGonagall's going to kill you!"

"Oh, _stupif_---!"

"Mr. Snape, I hope you weren't about to curse a student!"

"No, sir."  _Evil death glare patent number 10045_ directed itself in the direction of the green haired Gryffindor.

As they approached the rather large doorway into the Great Hall, all noise and motion within the room seemed to cease.  Eyes directed themselves in the direction of the irritated three.  Even Headmaster Dumbledore himself didn't contain nearly as much irritating eye-twinkling as was usual, though he still smiled warmly at the assembled students.

_"What the bloody---!"_

_"I told you so, Sirius!"_

_"What did you do to him, Snake?!"_

At the last comment, shouted by the ever-eloquent James Potter, "Snape the Snake" snarled in the direction of the Gryffindor table.  At least the Slytherins were on his side, as his own table began rallying their food together in a big pile.  

_"What an idiot, Sirius the Delirious!  __Ha, ha!"_

_"He got himself stuck to our Pranks Master!  He's in for it, now!"_

"Don't worry, Sev, we'll get the rest for you!"

_"Prepare for pain, Gryffs!"_

And with that last threat from the Slytherin table, a mass of food was launched toward the Gryffindors with such surprising height and speed that it could only have been controlled by the _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm.  


	3. Part Three, Which Includes Violent Twitc...

Adhere's the Problem

Part three, which contains violent twitching, sideways hopping, cutting off the Headmaster on multiple occasions, and ample hair-pulling for everyone.

Professor Flitwick clapped enthusiastically at his Slytherin students' mastery of the _Leviosa_ charm, standing up on the Head table so he could see better.

"All right, that's ---Madame Pomfrey!"  Headmaster Dumbledore cut himself off as he watched the nurse sprint by him in a vain attempt to subdue the Slytherins and Gryffindors. 

She skidded to a sudden halt and backtracked ten or so feet to stand in front of the Headmaster.  "Headmaster Dumbledore!  Do something about this!"  Madame Pomfrey hesitated as she finally noticed the white substance that covered the two students and the lack of the Good Humor Twinkle usually sported by the professor.  "Headmaster …Oh, Dear …is everything all right?"

"Madame Pomfrey, our young potions prodigy has outdone himself.  Would you mind seeing us in the Hospital ---?"

"Oh, of course, Albus, of course!"  Then, against all common sense or unspoken warnings that may have issued forth from the three victims of the new potion, Madame Pomfrey reached out and attempted to pat Sirius Black on the head.

Her encouraging remark choked itself back before it began as she realized she couldn't remove her hand.

Sirius shrieked as she pulled on his green and silver hair.

Snape did his best to keep the laughter inside as the Headmaster's hand tightened threateningly on the back of his neck.

"Oh, Severus, there's a beetle in your hair …" Madame Pomfrey, though a brilliant mediwitch, was slightly lacking in the ways of common sense.

"NO!"

Sirius exploded into hysterical laughter as the mediwitch attempted in vain to remove her hand from both the beetle and Severus Snape's head.

Snape twitched violently as the beetle's feet began a ticklish pacing under Madame Pomfrey's carefully cupped hand.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions …" Another twitch.

"Something wrong, Snapey?"  Sirius's grin was pure menace.  He knew what was wrong.

"Let's owl St. Mungo's," Madame Pomfrey suggested.

*          *          *

They declined assistance from Professor McGonagall, knowing that every available adult and prefect would be needed to sort out The Chaos of Lunch.

And so, awkwardly, the four made their way to the Headmaster's office so they could script out a letter for aid.

Only after attempting to pick up a quill, Headmaster Dumbledore insisted that Sirius write the letter, the Gryffindor student happening to be the only one with free hands.

It took four drafts to get the letter written.  Sirius had to cross out and re-cross out words that he continuously spelled wrong, and Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't let a student at Hogwarts send something so poorly written.    

"It's Black, they wouldn't think anything of it.  Just have him sign his name."  Snape twitched and snapped his teeth shut as both Sirius attempted to push him over with the leg that was attached to him, and the beetle began tap-dancing.

"Mr. Snape, that attitude is exactly what got us into this trouble.  Now, if you don't---" Snape cut off the Headmaster.

"It is _not_ what got us into this trouble, Headmaster!  It's all _his_ fault!  He killed my potion!"  The stilled hands resumed choking the Gryffindor, causing Sirius to spasm and scratch a thick black line over the nearly finished letter.

"_Mr. Snape!  Cease your attack immediately!"_

_"No!"_

_"…Can't …b-breathe ...!"_

_"Oh, for the love of …"_

_"Stop complaining, Black, it'll all be over shortly!"_

_"Stop, stop, STOP!"_

The four wavered as one, like a giant tree that had just been buffeted by a great hurricane.  They swayed one way, and then the other …and then fell into a heap on the ground.

"What ingredients, exactly, did you combine for this potion, Mr. Snape?"

To Be Continued …


	4. Part Four, In Which A War Continues

Adhere's the Problem

Alarun 

Chapter 4, In Which The Oompa Loompas Are Deemed Hypocritical, Miniature Rabbits Are Abound (abounding down the hallway, that is …), And Sirius Black's Green And Silver Hair Falls Out.  (Just kidding.  I like it green and silver.)

Kyra Invictus Black, this chapter is dedicated to you, because I kinda forgot that this story existed …   ::coughs into hand::   Plus, you've got some really great ideas!  Whoda thunk the quill would get stuck to Black?  ::slaps forehead::

p.s. I don't own Harry Potter or anything creative like that.  If it's well thought out and in-character, I definitely didn't do it.  A'duh!

"Yeah, well...as soon as I think of something snappy to say, you'll be sorry!"

"You won't, Black.  You're a Gryffindor.  Snappy is not high on your list of priorities.  Well, neither is reading, writing… or walking, for that matter." Snape snapped.

"You …you … gregarious gregarine!" Black sputtered, not exactly pronouncing the words right.  He'd heard Remus muttering the word "gregarine" while studying for Care of Magical Creatures.

Snape blinked at that.  "Er …if you knew what 'gregarious' meant, you obviously wouldn't use it to describe me.  _I am not a social butterfly!"_  He began squeezing again.

"Mr. Snape!  Seeing as we're all lying piled on top of one another on the ground, I'd say that it was _rather stupid of you to be killing your school-mate!"_  Madame Pomfrey shrieked.  Very shrilly.  In Severus's ear.

"But raw stupidity hasn't stopped anyone yet!"  Snape ceased his strangling only because Madame Pomfrey was pulling on his hair.  The beetle seemed to have stilled in fright.

Sirius Black yelled into the chaos. 

"I CAN'T LET GO OF MY QUILL!"  

***

"…But then again the Loompas seem to lack perspective throughout: they keep saying that if you follow their little moral ditties then you'll be happy like them, which sounds pretty good until you realize they're a bunch of orange midgets in a labor camp… "

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Just because you don't like Muggle movies, don't ruin it for the rest of us."

"_You _are ruining it for the rest of us!  Quiet!  The Slytherins are on the move again."

James Potter was leaning against the overturned Gryffindor table among the debris of food and broken plates.  Pumpkin juice covered the Marauders like blood in the war zone known previously as mealtime. 

Potter raised himself slightly to look over the edge of the table in the direction of the Slytherins.  He could swear that he heard movement on the right side of the hall, which would mean that the enemy was flanking them for an ambush. 

"We'll show 'em."  James whispered, motioning for his friends to huddle around him.  

"What are they doing over there?"  Crabbe mumbled, frustrated, as Lucius Malfoy began directing orders around the Slytherins.  

"Why don't you go over and look, Crabbe?" Lucius didn't spare a glance in the direction of his henchman.

Crabbe, in a wavering moment of intelligence, balanced a soup bowl on the tip of his wand and raised it over the level of the table.

It was immediately pelted with chicken legs, apples, and one bowl of rice pudding.

"They're still over there."  

"You think!?"  Lucius snarled, "The only exits available are on opposite sides of the Great Hall, front and back.  Unfortunately, our tables are perpendicular to these exits.  Therefore, of course, one would be forced to walk to the _front_ of one's …barricade…in order to leave.  And with the enemy watching, you would be destroyed before you ran that far!"

Crabbe and Goyle were staring at Malfoy, eyes wide with fear.  

Goyle was struck with a thought.  He stood up quickly and pointed his wand at the Gryffindor table. 

"_Sylvilagus*!"_

"Goyle, no!"

Several Holland Lop bunnies emerged from Goyle's wand.  Frightened as …well, rabbits …the floppy-eared bunnies swarmed around the Great Hall, seeking shelter.  More food was thrown from the Gryffindor table.  

***

"Well, Gryffindors are natural heroes!  We're definitely better than a bunch of sneaky …Dark Wizards!"

"Nature abhors a hero. For one thing, he violates the law of conservation of energy. For another, how can it be the survival of the _fittest_ when the fittest keeps putting himself in situations where he is most likely to be creamed?"

Snape's use of the word "creamed" made Albus Dumbledore suddenly remember that he had not eaten, and his stomach growled loudly.  He was becoming very irritated with this bickering.  And the fact that he was lying on the bottom, supporting not only the two third years, but also Madame Pomfrey.

"I wish you two would stop bickering for two minutes!"  Madame Pomfrey, exasperated, said in the pause between more arguments. 

"And if wishes were horses, we'd be knee-deep in crap."

"Mr. Black!"

"Not bad, Black.  Not bad."

  
  


*Sylvilagus; the genus of which rabbits are of.  So what, I'm not creative like some people who _know_ Latin …Neither is Goyle.  

:o)


End file.
